by Jack Parker
Her eyes scanned the pictures on the mantelpiece and the wall. Family shots, ones with Linda and the boys and some with their friends. Always the same look on her face. The smile that wasn't quite there. And then one at the end, a recent photograph, herself and Robin at the barbecue she'd held a few weeks earlier. There was something different about her expression in that photograph. It was bright. Alive. Her smile was broad and her eyes sparking. Shit, the difference was enormous. Was she only whole when she was with someone who had been through that experience too?
"Are you listening?"
"Hmm?"
Shit – zoned out again. She was doing that all the time now.
"I said call me when you get back from the hospital," Linda repeated. Her expression wasn't exactly one of joy. Things had been increasingly strained between them through recent events. Kim nodded again and muttered a few words of agreement. Her heart wasn't in it any more. She had spent years pretending she was normal and fine. Now she had let a little of the old 'her' out, covering it up was a mammoth task. It drained her energy and sent her into a state of numbness and depression.
She kissed Linda and her boys goodbye then slowly prepared to get ready for her hospital appointment. Another fruitless appointment full of we don't know why your heart stopped. She didn't really have the stomach for it. The appointments were getting more frustrating and unnerving all the time, but she had to go to be approved to return to the force, and getting back to her old role was one step towards becoming the old her again – a step that her wife was less than pleased about.
That was just part of it though, her mind told her as she took a slow walk to the hospital. It was a bright spring morning, complete with flowers blooming and birds singing in the trees but it might as well have been pouring with rain. The events of the last couple of weeks were weighing on her mind too. She ran a hand through her hair, the chopped locks a lasting reminder of a terrifying ordeal that had brought the two worlds crashing and colliding together.
She hung her head a little as she thought about the intense hours, tied and bound on a rotting old boat. Some things happened there that she wasn't ready to think about yet. In fact, she wasn't sure she ever would be. She physically blinked as hard as she could to force the images from her mind and started to walk a little faster. It was time to stop thinking about it for now. Focus on the hospital appointment. Get the all clear for returning to the force as well as going back to her job as a tattooist. Then she could turn her mind to other matters.
Not that she had much of a say on that. Her mind kept turning to those other matters by itself.
* * *
Brightly she skipped like a teenager through the street.
Joyously she ran, excited and full of anticipation.
She bounded up the steps, two at a time and knocked quickly on the door. She hopped from foot to foot impatiently until the door opened and his face peered around it. The only person she really wanted to see. The only person who'd be as excited as she was.
"Robin, guess what?"
Robin had been a little taken aback to find an over-excitable Kim on his doorstep. He was still reeling from The Night Of Very Little Sleep, and was certain he looked a fair old state. He tried to pull his thoughts together coherently and managed to say, "What?" before an excitable Kim bounded in and cried,
"I got the go-ahead! I'm back in the force! I start next week!"
It took a few moments for Robin to make sense of what Kim had just said. His mind was all over the place and her fast, excited tone didn't seem to register at first. Finally when he realised a grin broke out on his face and he cried,
"Kim, that's great news!"
"I know!" cried Kim, excitable arms flailing around his shoulders with a cry of delight.
Robin realised, with quite some deep breath of relief, that despite the thoughts that had been plaguing him for days her enthusiastic hug brought with it no alien feelings or attraction or arousal in any way, shape or form. This was normal Kim, regular Kim, not talking-about-the-love-of-her-life Kim. This was a Kim full of beans and joy, not a Kim with intense eyes and passion in her words.
Robin closed his eyes for a moment as the excitable hug continued. Thank god for that, the thought to himself. Maybe it had all been a brief, hormonal overload? Maybe he had an overload of testosterone for a moment and felt confused. Maybe he really was just lonely, or knowing that Kim was a link with Simon made him feel temporarily closer to her than he should have been. Whatever the reason, he was just relieved that, right then, his emotions stretched to joy at her clean bill of health and that was as far as it went.
So what the bloody hell was last night about? Robin cursed himself for the sleepless existence that had plagued him all night long. He tried to keep his mind away from that subject.
"What about your elbow?" he asked.
"Got the all clear to start tattooing again too," Kim assured him.
"So we're still on for tomorrow?" Robin asked.
"As logn as you've not lost your nerve," Kim teased.
"Lost my… bloody cheek!" cried Robin.
Kim laughed.
"I warned you they were addictive," she said.
"I can think of worse things to be addicted to," said Robin. He paused for a moment. He had this strange sense inside that Kim was about to say she had to go. He bit his lip as he realised he didn't want her to leave yet. He hadn't seen her in a couple of days and he had started to feel twitchy and unhappy away from her company. "I think we should celebrate your news," he told her.
"I should be getting home," Kim said a little half-heartedly but Robin didn't have to work hard on persuading her to stay.
"Come on, Kim – There's almost a full bottle of brandy left from Monday. Quick glass before you go?"
Kim hesitated for effect.
"Alright then," she said, "You've twisted my arm."
"That's one thing I won't be doing, or I'll never get that tattoo," Robin teased.
Kim followed him through to the kitchen. She looked around and noticed how very Robin it had become. From the previously almost-bare surfaces, a culinary beehive had emerged with cooking implements, devices and sundries in every space. She sat down at the table as Robin got the brandy bottle out of the cupboard and found a couple of glasses.
"Have you got the design so I can look at it again?" Kim asked.
"Design?"
"The tattoo."
"Oh," Robin glanced around, "hang on." He wandered off for a moment and returned with a large sheet of paper, all rolled up neatly. Kim opened it and took a good look.
"If you come in at about half ten," she said, "it'll give me chance to draw the template to transfer first."
"Sure," said Robin. He unscrewed the top of the bottle and poured a little for both of them.
"Oh fuck that," said Kim, "I'm not driving, put a bit more than there." She listened to the sound of the bottle glugging out a top-up as she studied the image before her. "You know, this is pretty good, Rob. I never knew you were creative."
"Yes, well," Robin looked a bit awkward, "past ambitions to become an artist… phobia of paintbrushes… tube of phthelo blue in the eye… long story."
Kim didn't even ask him to elaborate.
"Is there any career you haven't tried?" she asked.
Robin thought for a moment.
"Vocational guidance counsellor," he said.
Kim laughed and rolled his design up again, slipped the elastic band back over the roll and placed it on the table.
""I'll take this with me now and then I'll have it ready for tomorrow," she told him.
Robin lifted up his glass.
"Right then," he said, "to a successful return to CID and a triumphant return to the tattoo studio."
"And a clean bill of health," said Kim.
Even as they clinked glasses and sipped their drinks there was a little part of her that worried more about the clean bill of health than if they'd have found something wrong. The way things stood the
re was no reason for her to suffer a cardiac incident. No earthly reason, that was. If it wasn't caused by her body then why did it happen? Thoughts of the other world plagued her again as she thought of it. Her face fell as little as she drank from her glass. She tried to block out the pull that she was feeling from there for the first time in so many years but it wouldn't go away.
She tried to lose herself in the brandy and the chatter, talking to Robin about everything from the extra large wart on the nose of the doctor she saw to the fact that Evan's beard had received its own subpoena to appear at Evan's trial. The minutes flew by and turned into an hour, then two, until finally the noise of a loud ringtone made them both jump.
"Shit," Kim cursed, fishing her phone from her pocket. As she caught a glimpse of the display she felt a terrible pang of guilt in her chest. "Shit, it's Linda." She looked at Robin."I was supposed to call her as soon as I left the hospital." She got to her feet and pressed the button. "Hi Linds. Yeah… Yeah. I'm sorry… well, there were lots of hold ups…. I just left a little while ago…"
Robin sat back and watched her pacing as she lied to her wife on the phone. He lifted what was left of his brandy and drank it down. As it stung and warmed his throat he tried to fathom why Kim was lying to her wife. It wasn't like she was doing anything wrong. She'd lost track of time, that was all. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his eyes fixed upon her. The sparkle was fading before his eyes, the joy of her return to work was suddenly subdued and followed by a sad sigh as she ended the call.
"I've got to go," she said quietly, "Linda's not happy with me. I should have called her ages ago."
Robin bit his lip.
"Sorry," he said quietly.
"Not your fault," Kim assured him, "I should have just done what I said I'd do. It's just that I…" she trailed off and seemed reluctant to finish her sentence.
"What?"
Kim closed her eyes for a moment,.
"I just wanted to speak to someone who'd be happy for me," she said, "instead of pissed off."
Robin gave her a sad smile. He didn't envy her position.
"Sorry, Kim," he said quietly,
Kim grabbed her bag and threw it over her shoulder then picked up Robin's tattoo design.
"I'd better get back quickly, get some mouthwash and sober up before Linda asks me if I've been at the medicinal alcohol," she said, "but I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"
Robin smiled but there was a flicker of something darker behind it.
"Yeah, I'll see you then," he said.
"I'll let myself out," Kim told him, "Bye, Rob."
Robin said goodbye with a slightly awkward smile and as he watched her leave he began to feel a little woozy.
"Knew I wasn't cut out for alcohol," he mumbled as he cleared the glasses away, but somehow it didn't feel like the same kind of giddiness he'd felt on the rare occasions he'd consumed alcohol in the past. It was a different kind of feeling. The wooziness might have been in his head but it felt like it was originating in the pit of his stomach, like there was something bringing him anxiety or worry. He swallowed and tried to chase the thought away. It didn't do to let him mind start to dwell on things again. Hormonal imbalance, that's what it was. It had to be.
Now he just had to convince himself that was the truth..
Chapter Three
Robin awoke to the sound of some horrible slushy ballad pouring out of the alarm clock and whacked it once or twice. He felt… well, refreshed. For the first time in almost a week he'd had a fairly decent amount of sleep and it was well needed, too. Kim's visit the day before had managed to push a little of his unsettling feeling out of his mind for a while. He had been able to focus on the fun friendship side of Kim and ignore the memory of the way she looked at him when her eyes were intense and her words full of feeling. He could push out of his mind the emotional Kim that he'd never really seen until a few days before. He focused on the Kim who was snorting with laughter as they took turns doing impressions of Evan's beard on the stand, or who taunted him about secretly tattooing a picture of Andrew Ridgeley on his back instead of the curling dragon he'd drawn out.
"Oh bloody hell, I'm going to be late!" he cried as he saw the time on the clock. What the bloody hell kind of time had he set the clock for?
Shit – that's right, he'd hit the sleep button.
Twice.
"Kim's going to batter me if I miss my appointment," he mumbled as he jumped out of bed. He ran to the wardrobe and pulled out a black shirt. It wasn't a colour he usually wore but he'd been branching out lately, experimenting with new looks and new styles. Maybe the tattoos were a part of that, he wasn't sure. The shirt quickly covered the scars on his chest but he realised quite suddenly that they would be on show while his shirt was off for the ink to adorn his skin. He closed his eyes and swore under his breath. He hadn't thought of that. At least he would be leaning forward, perhaps the scars would be more or less covered anyway. He hoped so. He didn't want Kim to see them.
Why was he bothered about that, he asked himself as he rushed to the bathroom for the fastest shower in history. The hot water caused a mist in the air but his mind was already clouded with myriad confusing thoughts. A few days earlier he'd been terrified of Simon rejecting him when he finally made it to the other side over the slashes that would be left on his chest forever. He hadn't cared if Kim had seen them. He didn't like them, but he wasn't self-conscious of them. Now the thought of her seeing them made him feel terribly depressed.
He tried to close off his mind to the unfamiliar thoughts again. The sound of the water blocked them out a little, he concentrated instead on the sensation of it cascading over him, felt it beating against his head as he rubbed shampoo into his hair and lathered it up. As the suds were swept away down the drain and he finally turned the shower off he found the silent room did little to hold back those thoughts again.
He dried as fast as he could and tried to eat some breakfast but his stomach was churning with nerves. He remembered being nervous before his first tattoo, but he hadn't felt this bad. And yet this time he knew what to expect – he shouldn't feel so anxious now. He gave himself a strict talking to as he gathered his wallet and keys and finally left the flat. He was sure he'd feel better when he got there and the tattoo began. He could just focus on the feeing of the needle on his skin then. Surely that would block out anything else.
His walk to the tattoo studio seemed to pass quickly and he soon found himself greeted by Kim.
"Hey Rob," her smile was warming and should have given him comfort, to soothe his nerves, but somehow it made the anxious feeling grow and he found himself having to swallow as he tried to speak, a strange lump of nervousness sitting in his throat.
"Hi Kim, I'm sorry if I'm a bit late."
Bang on time," said Kim, "come on through,"
She led him through to the private studio at the back where one of the other tattooists called out,
"Oi-oi, it's the one who wants to tattoo his dogs again!"
Robin gave a deep sigh. He supposed he was never going to live that down.
"Leave him alone," Kim warned her colleagues, "otherwise he'll train his dogs to sniff out tattooists at a hundred yards and set the lot on you. Won't you, Robin?"
Robin could barely squeak out a laugh and a vague agreement.
"Certainly will," he said finally.
Kim led him to a black leather slanting chair.
"Take your shirt off and drape yourself over that," she said, "I do like the shirt, by the way."
Robin felt his cheeks burning which made him cross with himself. He tried to smile but it came out a little crooked.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
He found himself at the moment he was dreading. The last time Kim had seen him since the Keats incident his scars had been covered by dressings. Now there was nothing to hide their severity. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding. He felt as though anyone else would consider him a terribly vain being but he felt so wretched about h
is body in front of her. He turned his back to Kim and quickly pulled the shirt, still buttoned, over his head. He dropped it to the ground and leaned quickly over the tilted chair. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, relieved that he'd gotten away with it. She hadn't seen. Maybe by the time she had finished his tattoo she would be so wowed by her own tattooing skills that she wouldn't notice anything but his back.
"I'm going to put the transfer on now," said Kim as she started to spray the area, "sorry, this is a bit cold."
Robin flinched a little at the cold spray, then felt the sensation of the template being pressed against his skin for a moment before she peeled it off and left the outline of a dragon against him. "There. Do you want to go and check in the mirror, make sure that's where you want it?"
Robin froze. He hadn't thought he'd have to get up again. Shit. He swallowed and whispered,
"No, thanks – that feels fine."
"Just check, Rob, I don't want to do it wrong."
Robin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Fuck. This was the last thing he wanted. He couldn't face the thought of her seeing all those marks across his chest and his belly. He couldn't bear to see them himself. He shook his head slowly and said,
"You're a better judge than I am, Kim. It feels fine."
"Are you sure?"
Robin nodded.
"I'm sure."
Kim sat down beside him and started to arrange the ink and prepare her needle. Robin closed his eyes as he leant his head against the headrest. He felt thankful he'd managed to get out of that one. He'd relax as soon as the tattoo began, he told himself. Which seemed a funny thing to say, considering the pain and all. But it was true.
As he sat there, waiting for the sound of the needle to begin, an unexpected sensation travelled across his back. Kim's fingers pressed lightly against his skin and moved slowly sideways, then up to hid shoulders. The touch was light, gentle – unexpected. It sent a tingling through his body which threatened to arrive in an awkward area.